Lingo

CHAPTER X. THE NEW KING

HAWKEYE had returned to his post outside the garage. The Shadow’s agent had arrived there while his chief was still upstairs in Rook’s apartment; but even Hawkeye’s keen, observing eyes failed to detect the departure of the cloaked avenger.

Remaining at his post, Hawkeye kept wondering. He was sure that his brief trip to report to Burbank had not allowed time for either Rook Hollister or Trip Burley to come downstairs. Hawkeye decided that the two must have entered into a prolonged conference.

Twenty minutes passed. Hawkeye was getting impatient. Had Rook decided to remain in his apartment?

Did the big shot think that be would be safe there from mobland’s vengeance? Such might be the case; still that did not account for the fact that Trip had not emerged.

Analyzing Rook’s situation. Hawkeye decided that the big shot’s best bet was to send Trip back into the underworld as soon as possible. There Trip might learn of moves that others intended to make.

Hawkeye, therefore, regarded Trip’s long stay at Rook’s as a piece of poor strategy.

Ten minutes more. Hawkeye peered steadily as he saw someone approaching the garage. This was something that the little trailer had not anticipated. Instead of people coming out, someone was going in.

The lanky figure that Hawkeye saw looked familiar. Lamplight gave a glimpse of a pasty face. Hawkeye recognized the new arrival by his overlarge, flattened nose and the protruding effect of his chin.

It was Lingo Queed. What was more, Lingo’s goal was the garage. Hawkeye watched mobland’s interpreter sidle in toward the entrance to the secret elevator. Here was news for The Shadow. Lingo must either know or suspect that the secret entrance existed to Rook Hollister’s abode.

Hawkeye sneaked forward. He entered the garage and reached a spot where Lingo had turned from view. Peering into the little airshaft. Hawkeye spied Lingo at the tin wall.

As Hawkeye watched, Lingo gained success. The metal-covered barrier moved upward. Hawkeye saw Lingo step into an elevator. Hawkeye ducked away as Lingo turned about.

A few seconds later, there was the rumble of machinery. Taking another look, Hawkeye saw that Lingo had closed the opening behind him.

This meant another report to Burbank. Hawkeye hastened on his way wondering just what Lingo’s visit meant. He felt sure that the gabby mobster could not be another tool of Rook’s. Therefore there was but one other answer. Lingo with many contacts in the bad lands, must have been lucky enough to find out about Rook’s secret elevator. It might be that he was on his way to take a chance on killing the big shot and thus usurp the kingship of the underworld.

HAWKEYE, had he followed Lingo, would have been treated to a strange sequence of events. Up in Rook’s apartment the door of the elevator had opened. Lingo stepping forth, had come directly upon Trip Burley’s body.

Standing in the gloom of the little dressing room, Lingo looked down at the dead form. Then he closed the door to the elevator and went into the living room. There he viewed Donald Manthell’s prostrate body. Lingo’s lips formed their sour smile.

The tuxedoed dead man looked like Rook Hollister. The .45 in his loose hand had every appearance of being the gun that had brought doom to Trip Burley. Turning, Lingo surveyed the distance between living room and dressing room. His gaze seemed expert.

An elevated train rumbled by. Lingo cocked his head to one side and listened as the windows rattled.

Once more he smiled sourly. Then he paced across the living room and back again. From his pocket he drew an old revolver. It was a .38.

Drawing a grimy bandanna from his other pocket. Lingo began to polish the handle of the .38. While doing so he walked into the dressing room. There he laid his own gun on the floor and picked up Trip Burley’s .32. He polished the handle of this weapon; then gripped it in his fist and smiled.

Like The Shadow, Lingo had altered circumstances of death. First, Donald Manthell had lain weaponless, slain by Trip Burley’s .32. Trip had fallen, his gun beside him, downed by The Shadow’s .45. The Shadow had made things look different simply by placing his big automatic in Manthell’s hand.

Lingo’s change of guns had added a new complexion. Trip’s shirt front showed the gaping wound from the big automatic. Apparently he had been killed by Manthell. But beside Trip now lay a fully loaded .38, which indicated that Trip had failed to deliver a single shot.

It was Lingo Queed who held the .32 that was responsible for Manthell’s death. Viewing that weapon like an important prize, Lingo transferred it to his left hand. Spying the telephone, he went to it, lifted the receiver and dialed.

“Hello…” Lingo’s tone was casual. “That you, Louie?… Yeah, sure, this is Lingo… That’s all right. I don’t mind if Blitz is there. I’ve got news for him, too… Yeah, both of you.

“I’m up at Rook’s. I want you up here… No. I didn’t come in through the front way and you don’t have to either. There’s another way in… Yeah, a secret entrance, through an elevator from the garage in back of the Hotel Thurmont… You’ll find it easy. It’s through the wall in the airshaft. I’ll be waiting for you…

“And listen, bring along anybody you can scare up… Yeah, I’ve got a surprise for you — a good one… All right Louie. Inside of fifteen minutes…”

LINGO pulled a nickel-plated watch from his pocket and noted the time. He stole into the living room, sat down in a chair and lighted one of Rook Hollister’s expensive perfectos.

A dozen minutes passed while Lingo smoked; then the lanky intruder arose and went back to the elevator shaft. He descended to the ground level.

A few minutes passed while Lingo waited in the darkness of the elevator. Then came scraping sounds on the other side of the sheathed door. Lingo raised the barrier and grinned as he saw Louie Caparani and Blitz Schumbert. The racketeers were accompanied by two mobleaders. Lingo motioned them into the elevator.

While Blitz growled questions, the group rode upward. Lingo offered no reply until the light came on when he opened the door at the top. Then be pointed to Trip Burley’s body and said:

“There’s a guy that got his.”

“Trip Burley!” rumbled Blitz. “Who got him, Lingo?”

“I’ll show you,” offered Lingo.

He led the way into the living room and pointed out the second body. It was Louie this time who uttered an ejaculation:

“Rook Hollister!”

“Take a look at the smoke-wagon,” suggested Lingo, indicating the automatic. “The one in Rook’s mitt. He used that cannon to plug Trip. That was before I got here. I guess Trip never had a chance. He’s got a loaded rod.”

The arrivals went to look at Trip’s body. They nodded their agreement that Rook must have plugged the mobleader with the .45. Louie Caparani expressed the opinion that Trip had gotten his while sneaking in from the elevator.

“He was laying there when I blew in,” declared Lingo calmly. “But I guess Rook wasn’t figuring on a second customer. He was in the living room when I walked in on him and he still had hold of that hot smoke-wagon.

“But I never gave him a chance to use it on me.” As he spoke, Lingo produced the stubby .32 that he had picked from beside Trip. “I gave him a slug from this and I did it in a hurry. Jabbed it right in his ribs while he was turning around.”

“How come nobody heard the shot?” queried Blitz. “If you gave him the works in here some of those gorillas out front should have heard it.”

“What do you think I brought this toy gun for?” demanded Lingo, flourishing the .32. “I had it with me so it wouldn’t be heard so easy. What’s more, I got a break. A train was goin’ by on the “el.” You can’t hear much up here when they’re rattling the windows.”

In corroboration of Lingo’s assertion his listeners heard the approach of another elevated local. The noise of the train became deafening; then diminished. Lingo pocketed the .32, grinning.

“I always had a hunch,” he declared, “that there was a back way into this joint. There used to be a Japanese worked for Rook, and those gazebos are as smart as the chinks when it comes to tricks.

“Tonight, after I left Koy Dow’s, I began thinking over what Trip had said. He was kind of quick, with that gag of his about giving credit to the guy who could get Rook. I had a hunch that he was coming up here to rub out Rook, and I knew if he did it would have to be by sneaking in.

“That Jap of Rook’s had always been cagey when I talked to him, even if I used his own line of gab. I picked up my Japanee out in Frisco, like I did my Chinee. Anyway, I headed up here and took a squint inside the garage. I spotted that air chamber and found what I wanted.”

LINGO looked about the group. His gaze was crafty. It was evident that he was studying the reaction of his fellows.

Louie Caparani was the first to give expression. The dark-faced racketeer extended his hand to Lingo.

“This makes you the big shot,” acknowledged Louie. “Trip would have got it if he’d bumped Rook. But you pulled the rubout, Lingo, and that puts you up top.”

“That suits me,” added Blitz, also proffering his hand. “We made the deal and we’re sticking by it. I’m glad it was you, Lingo, that pulled the rubout. Trip was springing a fast one on us, on account of knowing how he could act in here. But Trip flopped, which showed he didn’t have the goods. You came through.”

The group started for the elevator. As they stepped aboard Lingo stopped. He stooped and picked up the .38 that lay beside Trip’s body. Polishing the handle of the .32, he laid it there instead.

“What’s the big idea,” queried Blitz.

“That’s for the bulls,” grinned Lingo, “so they’ll get the wrong dope. You guys are the only ones that need to know I bumped Rook.”

“Good stuff, Lingo,” commended Louie with a chuckle. “Leave the hot rod on Trip. They can’t make any trouble for him.”

As they descended in the darkened elevator Lingo’s companions were giving him credit for a smart idea.

They did not know, nor even suspect, that Lingo had replaced weapons exactly as they had been when he had appeared upon the upstairs scene.

The present arrangement was the same as the one that had existed when The Shadow, cloaked in black, had departed from Rook Hollister’s. Lingo Queed, through maneuvering that equaled The Shadow’s craftiness, now stood acclaimed as Rook Hollister’s successor in the underworld.

HAWKEYE, watching from outside the garage, saw the new big shot and his lieutenants make their final departure. Hawkeye had witnessed the arrival of the four whom Lingo had summoned. He had traveled away to inform Burbank of this new development; he had returned in time to find Lingo and the others on their way out.

After the group had gone, Hawkeye again left his post. He reached the telephone booth and made another call to Burbank. The contact man quietly ordered him off duty. Hawkeye looked puzzled as he shuffled from the drug store where he had made the call.

Tonight’s developments had left Hawkeye bewildered. Yet the little agent had a hunch that The Shadow must have gleaned knowledge of his own. In this surmise Hawkeye was correct.

As the avenger who had ended the murderous career of Trip Burley, The Shadow had gained inklings of Rook Hollister’s hidden scheme. To The Shadow, the subsequent actions of Lingo Queed could therefore present no new mystery.